More Myself Than I
by Where I Cannot Follow
Summary: It was hot the day that the telegram arrived from Baltimore—vindictively humid—and her first thought was that she would have to wear her mourning blacks.


Prologue

It was hot the day the telegram arrived from Baltimore—vindictively humid—and her first thought was that she would have to wear her mourning blacks.

Thinking back, it was not lost upon her that such a calloused thought bordered on utter cruelty. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to feel as bereaved as she was meant to appear. She had asked for her old mourning dress to be taken out of storage and washed, refusing to be fitted for a new one, and she had worn it every day in observance of her husband's death.

What she lacked in sincerity, she made up for in presentation, and now she was paying the penance for her apathy.

Unfurling the twisted handkerchief she held, Anne tried her hand at discretion as she wiped the sweat from her face and the back of her neck. The waiting room was more crowded than she'd ever seen it, which did nothing for the good of the people as far as fresh air was concerned. Open windows lined the opposite wall, but not a whisper of a breeze filtered through them, and there was no need to wonder why none of the seats were taken. They were all set alight by the morning sun, scorching even in its infancy, and it would only get worse with every minute that trudged by. The miserable sighs and muttered curses that filled the room were only to be expected, but the one poor soul Anne found herself pitying was the dark-haired young woman beside her who was struggling to settle two screaming babies, their silken hair plastered to their damp red faces.

Anne cast a sidelong glance at the woman, who seemed to be on the verge of screaming herself. Not that she could blame her. How many times had she been the one trying to quiet distraught little ones that only egged each other on in their sorrow? The unforgiving looks from others were the worst part though, and there was no shortage of them here.

Anne met the rolling eyes and unsubtle sigh of the lanky gentleman standing in front of them with a cold glare, then turned to the mother.

"How old are they?"

"Four months," the woman sighed. "I beg your pardon for the noise, ma'am. I haven't been able to settle 'em all mornin'."

Anne gave her a small smile and shook her head. "They're no bother. I've cared for many a sets of twins in my day," she assured her. "Would you like me to hold one of them? I think it'll help cool them a bit if they aren't so close."

A look of relief fell over the woman's face, and Anne took one of the squirming bundles from her arms with gentle hands. The fussy little babe made his discontentment known, but Anne loosened the bonnet from his head and pulled the booties from his feet as she bounced him on her lap, and soon he was staring at her with unsteady and wondering eyes.

"You must have children of your own," the young woman commented, mimicking Anne's actions and tucking the effects into her bag.

"None," she replied, a bright smile on her face as she tried to encourage the wee boy to mirror it with one of his own.

"How'd you know to do that, then?"

Anne laughed when the baby laughed, bubbles of drool pooling around his little mouth, and dabbed at his chin with her sleeve. "I used to care for them when I was a girl."

"Housemaid?"

"Of sorts."

"Mrs. Gardner?"

Anne looked up at the door to the office where the receptionist was waiting for her, then turned back to the young woman guiltily.

"That's me, I'm afraid," she said, handing the baby back over to his mother.

The woman said nothing, but nodded and stared after her as Anne followed the receptionist through the door and into the familiar office.

A gray-haired gentleman rose from behind the desk to greet her, clasping her hand in both of his.

"Mrs. Gardner, please, allow me to express my deepest condolences," he said with feeling. "When I saw the article in the paper, I never imagined Mr. Gardner could've been a part of it. What in the world was he doin' in Baltimore?"

"Thank you, Mr. Corbett," she replied, taking the seat across from his. "He was traveling for business. Something about looking into buying stocks in the shipping industry in that port, I believe."

Mr. Corbett narrowed his brows at her, but shook his head and sat down. "He never would mention his schemes to me until he'd made up his mind about them. He was certainly one for making a business deal, wasn't he? Ah, but that's the way with y'all business folk, isn't it?"

Anne suppressed the urge to cock a brow at him, knowing all too well that he meant no harm. She didn't care to be lumped in with the _business folk_ , but she couldn't deny that it must seem that way to him. More often than not, it had been her coming to meet with him to discuss Royal's business expenditures over the past five years rather than the man himself.

"And I'm sure sorry to have missed the funeral," he went on, pulling a few leaves of paper from a manila envelope. "I was in Birmingham last week and didn't hear until I came home on Friday. I felt plum rotten for not havin' attended."

Anne assured him that no offense had been taken, but said nothing else on the matter in the hopes that he would carry on with the business at hand. He seemed to realize this and cleared his throat, giving the papers another look before he went on.

"Now, your note said you're lookin' to settle all of Roy's accounts," he said. "You seem to have all the proper documentation here. Are you certain there's nothing else we'll need to take into account? As I said, Roy liked to keep his ideas to himself until he'd already done a thing."

"I'm certain," she nodded, wiping at the back of her neck again. "Royal did keep things close to his chest, but he liked for me to check over the numbers for him. What you have there accounts for everything."

"And your expenses?"

Anne looked up at him in mild surprise. "I don't have any expenses."

His forehead wrinkled as he looked over his spectacles at her.

"Royal made all financial transactions," she explained.

He still looked at her with the same serious expression but didn't press her, and Anne was grateful.

He cleared his throat again. "Well, in that case, I believe we can get things settled in short order. And I don't wonder at your wantin' to sell the estate. If you settle all his accounts, it'll leave you with no leeway to pay for the expense of it."

"I know," Anne replied, holding out her hand in silent request for the documents, which he surrendered. She looked over the notes she'd scratched down two nights prior, then back up at his kind face. "And, by my calculations, I believe there will be a bit left over?"

"Not much," he cautioned. "But I think it'll be enough to get you settled in a smaller home in a decent neighborhood. You might even consider Summerville. I hear they're doing a fine job of rebuildin' it, and the houses are cheap."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I already have a house and property in Canada. I just want to know if I'll have enough to get me there and settled."

Mr. Corbett stared at her, mouth agape.

"I don't recall you or Roy ever mentioning a second property," he said, shifting through the thick file again.

Now it was her turn to clear her throat uncomfortably as her gaze dropped to the twisted handkerchief in her lap. "That's because he didn't know about it. It was left to me by my adoptive guardians, and I was allowing a friend of mine to live there."

She paused to look up at him and was grateful to see the light of understanding behind his kind gaze. "Royal was always so impulsive," she went on. "I feared what he might do if he knew we had it at our disposal."

Mr. Corbett seemed to think this over for a moment.

"I'm sure you'll be sorely missed," he said, his voice low and somber. "When do you leave?"

"I was hoping we might have everything settled and the estate sold by the end of the month."

He nodded. "I think we'll be able to manage it. It's been a rather popular property these past few years, so I doubt you'll have much trouble finding a buyer."

"I've had a few offers already."

He cocked a wiry brow at her, and she gave a huff of a laugh.

"One came the same morning that his obituary was in the papers, then three more during the wake," she said. "You Southerners certainly don't lose any time around here, do you?"

He coughed a little and shifted in his seat. "Common decency seems to be on the decline, I'll admit. And what about your staff?"

"I've given them a week's notice and have written them all letters of recommendation," she said. "Two of them have already found placement elsewhere."

Mr. Corbett was silent for a long moment as he mulled this over. "And you're set on goin'?"

Anne gave him a small smile then. "I want to go home."


End file.
